


The Lange House

by CurlyCue



Category: The Sims (Video Games)
Genre: Accidental Parenting, Child Neglect, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, He's Babey, Other, anyway, because his parents are shit, because like. Sal's got the Gloomy trait and i hc that to mean depression, for no particular reason, hes always so much happier after being in our house so like ?? whats up with that bruh, rip to people who like the Ledesmas but im different, sorry Ledesmas but youre shit to your boy, time for the Boy to be happy, uhh in which Liberty and my Sim adopt a rogue teen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 19:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21142013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurlyCue/pseuds/CurlyCue
Summary: Miscellaneous stories from the Lange household as it evolves into the Lange-Lee household and grows from one single mess of a person trying to make it on their own into a full home of a happy, successful family.





	The Lange House

The first time Callin really saw Salvador around, he had been a teen, sitting on the sidewalk at the edge of the park by their house, minding his own business and having a peaceful moment in the fresh air. They’d been nearby, checking out the flowering plants in the park, tending to and harvesting them, when an older man from down the street began to complain about the teen’s “loitering”-- the man had made as if to approach the boy and confront him, and Cal had straightened up, made their way over, and confronted him. 

The elderly jerk had gotten all worked up about it, but they managed to smooth it over without too much fuss while also sticking up for the kid: they’d seen him around a few times, and he never seemed to cause any trouble. Besides, he wasn’t doing anything wrong at the moment. 

Satisfied enough with the results, Cal had turned around to return to their gardening when they caught the kid staring at them in surprise; they just offered him a friendly smile and waved, and he seemed embarrassed, waving back and then quickly averting his gaze. Not long after that, they looked up and found he’d up and left, but from then on, they saw him around a lot more. 

About a week later, they met again; this time, on the sidewalk in front of Cal and Liberty’s home-- a popular path for students, joggers, and other pedestrians. Judging by the books and the bag he was carrying, the younger dude fit into the first category; he must have been coming home from school, they figured, approaching their front door and rifling through their key ring to find their house key. As they did so, they heard the kid’s footsteps come closer and then pause; suddenly, he spoke up. 

“Hey,” he said, shyly. Cal turned around, offering him an encouraging smile. 

“Hey,” they replied.

“You’re that woman from the park, right? The one who defended me? I, uh... never really thanked you for that.” He continued, sending them a sheepish grin and nervously scratching his arm.

“Yeah,” they said, gently, “But I’m not a woman. And you don’t need to thank me! You weren’t doing anything wrong, so don’t worry about it. Old man Scott’s just grumpy.”

“Oh my god,” he winced. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean… ugh,” he groaned, and they laughed. 

“It’s fine, it happens. I’m Callin-- Callin Lange. It’s good to meet you,” they made their cheerful introduction, extending their arm to offer him a handshake. After a moment of rearranging his hold on his school books, he accepted the shake with firm enthusiasm, despite the pink tinge to his cheeks. 

“Salvador,” he replied. “Salvador Ledesma. Nice to meet you, too.”

Over the next several weeks, the two chatted... quite a bit, actually. Often, they would bump into each other at the park, or outside Cal’s house, and then they would get preoccupied and lose track of time, sometimes for _hours,_ just talking-- they both found, strangely, that they could talk to one another about practically anything. At first, Salvador had just talked about school and the outdoors-- school was fairly self-explanatory, but learning he loved the outdoors was interesting, to be sure. Of course, they loved gardening, so they clicked on that fairly quickly. 

Later on, he would learn that Callin was dating and living with Liberty Lee, and they wrote for a living while their girlfriend worked with astronauts, and Cal would then find out that Salvador really wanted to become a bodybuilder, and that he was working on getting better at painting and comedy. Upon learning this, they had immediately brightened, telling him that their girlfriend was a _masterful_ painter and would be happy to help him out, as well as offering to give him some comedy pointers themself sometime. Happily, he had accepted, then promptly freaked out and took off at a speed-walk when he checked the time and realized he was an hour and a half later than he’d told his parents he would be. 

So, considering how well they got on and how much they talked, it didn’t take Callin long to put two and two together to realize that something was going on with the kid. Normally, he was a goofball-- playful, kind, and cheerful, unafraid to laugh at himself-- but sometimes, he seemed so… tired. Whenever they brought it up, he would evade, and they worried for him. The topic of home always turned him serious, too; eventually, when he started to frequent their house, Cal would notice he seemed happier, less worried, but the next day, when they would bump into each other, he would seem even more weighed down than usual. 

After a while, they decided to bring it up to Liberty. “Hey, Libs,” they hummed, resting their chin on their hand and absentmindedly twirling their pasta around the tines of their fork.

“Yeah, babe?” She answered immediately, momentarily peeking back out at them from around the freezer door, where she’d buried herself in some repairs and upgrades. 

“Have you noticed anything off about Salvador lately?” They asked, pushing the noodles around their plate. “I think something weird is going on with him, and he won’t talk to me about it.”

For a moment, all they received in answer was a thoughtful hum and a pause in the sounds of repairs. Then, it was just the quiet. When she finally answered, her response was slow and measured, as if she wasn’t completely decided. “You know, I guess you might be onto something there. Sometimes I just… catch him looking at his phone like whatever’s on it is the last thing he wants to see. Or he’ll be zoning out and looking, like… _concerningly_ empty.”

This was news, they thought, and they made no move to hide their surprise. “Really? Huh...” 

“Yeah,” she confirmed, then hummed before tentatively resuming her repairs. “But if you didn’t know that, then what caught your attention enough that you asked?”

They hummed thoughtfully, letting a comfortable quiet settle between the two of them as they formulated a response. “I guess… he just seems so happy when he’s here, you know? But then, when he’s on his way back from someplace else, he always seems so… burdened. Especially on the days right after he spends time at our house. And he never wants to talk about his home life, either,” they add, finally abandoning their fork to their plate and turning to fully face her. “Do you think things are bad for him at home? Could he be, like... getting bullied at school? Does he have depression? God, I wish he would just talk to me, it’s so terrifying to not know.”

As Liberty quietly tinkered away, their questions hung heavily in the air between the two of them, making the relative silence almost stifling as Cal stared into their spaghetti, contemplative. In fact, it was so quiet that when the automatic light by the front door turned on, the short click of the mechanism drew their attention, and for a moment, they stared at the door, dumbfounded. It was a quarter to 11 on a Thursday night; who the hell would be at the door at this hour? Before the mystery visitor could do anything, Cal stood up and swiftly made their way over, taking a quick look through the peephole. Seeing who it was, their brows shot up in surprise.

When they pulled the door open, Salvador visibly paled and began to stumble over his words. “H-Hey, uh-- hi…? I didn’t even… how did you--?”

“The light turned on,” they said simply, then ushered him in with a gesture and a gentle hand on his shoulder. As they settled onto the couch, side by side, they sent a concerned look his way-- half-dried tear streaks shined visibly on his cheeks, and it was late; they were already past the point of wondering if, and were rather wondering _what_ had happened-- while the sound of the freezer door softly closing reached their ears. Soft footsteps padded their way over before Liberty came into view, settling into the chair facing the couch and wearing the same concerned look as her partner. 

“Hey, kiddo,” she said, leaning forward, her voice soft and brows furrowed. “What happened?” 

It was a simple enough question, really, but somehow, that was all it took. Not even three seconds of heavy silence passed before the tears made themselves evident, his expression crumpling before he hid his face in his hands. The sound of their almost-son’s muffled sobs filling their otherwise silent living room just broke their hearts; immediately, Cal was drawing him into a warm hug he practically dived into, burying his face in their shoulder and weeping. Meanwhile, Liberty stood from her chair and maneuvered around the coffee table to pop a squat in front of the two, resting a soothing hand on his knee while her partner rubbed his back. “Oh, honey…” 

It was like that for a while, just the three of them in the living room, quietly letting him cry himself out to two people who card about him; then, after the sobs had turned to quiet tears, and the tears to sniffles, Salvador pried himself away from Callin’s shoulder, mumbling a quiet apology, which immediately earned him a heartbroken reprimanding from the both of them, telling him there was nothing to be sorry for. It was then that Liberty gently patted his knee, drawing his red-rimmed gaze to her warm one, and the gentle prying began. “Sal, baby, what happened?” 

When he didn’t answer for a moment, Cal elaborated with a placating tone. “You don’t have to give us all the details right now, okay? That’s fine, you’re okay. We just need a general idea of what happened,” they soothed, brushing his curls away from his face and unsticking them from his cheeks. “It’s late,” they added when he still didn’t answer. “Do you need a place to stay?”

Slowly, he nodded, then sniffled. “... Tissue, please,” he murmured. 

No sooner had he asked than Liberty had stood up, made a trip to the bathroom, and come back with a roll of toilet paper, looking slightly sheepish. “We’re out of tissues right now,” she explained, holding out the roll. Regardless, he didn’t seem to mind, reaching up with his delicate fingers and plucking it from her hands without complaint, then promptly blowing his nose with some of it, sounding almost like an elephant trumpeting. While he did so, Liberty made her way to the kitchen. 

“Tea, or water?” 

“Tea, please,” Salvador replied, hoarse. Soon after, he tacked on a shy request. “... With honey?”

Unfazed, she just nodded. “Sure, sweetheart. It’ll be ready in a minute or two.” After that, there was a bit of kitchen bustling as background noise, as well as clinking and beeping. While he waited for her to return, Salvador let out an exhausted sigh and leaned back against Cal’s side, dropping his head onto their shoulder and letting his eyes drift shut. Before he knew it, he was dozing; when Liberty returned with the tea, he was asleep, and Cal was gently running their fingers through his hair. Despite her best efforts, the quiet clink of the tray against the coffee table woke him up, and he blinked himself awake, raising his head and blearily reaching for one of the cups. 

“Careful, it’s hot!” She warned, then blew on her own cup and took a cautious sip. Over the rim of her glass, she sent him a watchful, expectant look.

After a few sips, he finally started to open up, although he refused to look at either of them while he did so. His hands trembled slightly as he spoke. “I’ve always had some… issues. Emotional ones. Sometimes, I just-- feel… empty. Sad. Overwhelmed.” He explained slowly, as if each word was being extracted from deep in the tissue of his heart. They wondered if maybe they were. “It’s always been like this, but lately it’s been… worse. My parents, they…” For a second, he trailed off, then continued with pursed lips. “They expect me to be perfect, basically. ‘Quit being so gloomy!’ They don’t care about the effect it has on me, really. We have the money, and the resources, and I’ve talked to them about it, but… they just…” Again, he trailed off, and then, when he finished, his voice was even quieter than before, and deeply upset. “They blame me, I think.”

Quickly, Callin was filled with something they didn’t feel often: a flash of anger, protective and strong. They rested a gentle hand on his back, letting him know they’re there with him. 

“Well,” he laughed, the sound bitter and humorless. “Actually, I know they do. They’ve told me so,” He admitted casually, sounding just a bit hurt. His attitude about it made the anger in their chest burn and ache more intensely, and they moved the arm from his back to wrap him in a side hug, burying their nose in his hair and shutting their eyes, silently counting down from ten to reign in their anger while Liberty chimed in, much calmer than they could ever hope to be. 

“Salvador, I want you to listen to me. Can you do that?” Her voice was gentle, and he nodded, glancing up from his now lukewarm drink to meet her eyes. “Good,” she said, voice and gaze warm as she set her tea down, then took his own and did the same. Now that their hands were free, she wrapped his hands up in her own and continued. “What you’re experiencing is called depression. It’s a medical condition, and lots of people struggle with it. You’re not broken, and you deserve to get the help you need, okay? The way your parents are treating you is neglectful and abusive, and Callin and I are going to do everything we can to get you out of that situation and into something that works for you. Does that sound okay?”

At the sound of their name, Cal gently squeezed his shoulder and nodded, moving to meet their girlfriend’s gaze. Glancing between them both, Salvador sat in silence for a moment, mouth slightly agape and eyes filling back up with tears. “That sounds perfect,” he whispered, reaching up to wipe the tears from his eyes and scrub at his face. When his hand dropped back into his lap, he smiled for the first time all night. Teary-eyed and crooked, the smile wasn’t the prettiest thing in the world-- but at the moment, it was the best thing the two of them had ever seen.


End file.
